Which day is it?
Everything is a blur.
I walk aimlessly,
end up in the balcony – as always,
a cigarette ashing in my hand.
Is it morning?
Is it night?
Hard to tell, I haven’t slept in weeks.
I’ve been up for two sunrises and two sunsets now.
Sleep is not an option,
any attempt is redundant.
I see his face,
I feel his grip,
I’m smothered by his body weight,
and the even more so
the weight of the shame.
I light another cigarette – play another sad song.
This time, I ash it on my wrist,
Its easier to focus on a physical pain
than to feel the agony of your soul burn.
I try not to think of it,
I don’t remember most of it
– actually, I do.
I tell myself I don’t remember.
That seems to be working,
its all just a blur.